The mountain road was rugged, but Chen Zhiye rode fast. Sitting on the back seat, Su Muzhi kept her heart tightly suspended, afraid the electric scooter might fall apart and throw her off at any moment.
Fortunately, the vehicle held up. They arrived safely at the veterinary station at the foot of the mountain.
The building was small, but it was already surrounded by people, making it difficult even to step inside.
After finally squeezing through, Su Muzhi and Chen Zhiye saw the scene inside: on Dr. Huang’s left was a ewe about to give birth, on his right was a row of cats and dogs on IV drips, and in front of him was a group of villagers asking questions nonstop.
Dr. Huang looked at them as if he had seen saviors.
They were led into the innermost room. Dr. Huang pointed at the still-unconscious eagle owl and steppe eagle:
“I’ll leave these to you. If the owl doesn’t wake up in 30 minutes, inject this medicine. The steppe eagle’s wounds need disinfection, cleaning, and force-feeding.”
He hurried off immediately afterward.
Chen Zhiye put on disposable gloves and began checking the steppe eagle’s injuries.
Compared to him, Su Muzhi felt completely useless. Both animals were unconscious, and she couldn’t hear their voices, so she couldn’t help at all.
As she stood awkwardly, she suddenly heard a familiar voice:
“Ugh… it hurts so much…”
Excited, she immediately reported:
“Station Chief Chen, the owl has woken up!”
Chen Zhiye came over, checked under the owl’s neck, and felt its crop—it was empty.
“Then there’s glucose-soaked mouse feed over there. You handle the force-feeding.”
The owl, uncomfortable from his handling, opened its remaining eye and looked around. Everything was unfamiliar—except the girl in front of it. It recognized her: the foolish-looking human who had saved it.
It instinctively ordered her:
“Hey! I’m hungry. Feed me something quickly.”
“Okay.”
Su Muzhi ended up agreeing to two sets of instructions at once. Both human and bird were satisfied—one thinking she had hired a good worker, the other thinking it had gained a loyal servant.
This was her first time force-feeding an animal, and she was clumsy. She repeatedly caused the owl discomfort, which made it very dissatisfied:
“It hurts! Do you even know how to do this? I can eat myself—you keep shoving it down my throat!”
“Forget it! Let that guy over there feed me instead!”
Annoyed, Su Muzhi ground her teeth but couldn’t retort in front of Chen Zhiye.
Relieved to stop hearing complaints, she quickly called him over:
“Station Chief Chen, it keeps moving too much. I can’t get it to swallow. Can you try?”
Chen Zhiye had just finished dressing the steppe eagle’s wounds and came over with a fresh pair of gloves.
The owl was pleased, smug:
“That’s more like it. This guy looks way more reliab—”
Before it could finish, a mouse the size of a thumb was shoved straight into its mouth.
“I-it’s too much… too much!”
The owl’s expression shifted from excitement to agony. Meanwhile, Su Muzhi felt a strange sense of relief and even stuck her tongue out at it.
Chen Zhiye worked quickly and finished in minutes. Slightly idle, he casually asked:
“This owl was saved by you. Give it a name.”
“Me?”
She pointed at herself, surprised. Then she thought of a perfect name—one that matched its arrogant personality:
“Let’s call it ‘Eldest Princess.’”
Just as Dr. Huang arrived, he heard the name:
“Eldest Princess? Good name—since it’s female too!”
“Hey! Did anyone ask for my opinion?!”
The owl fluffed up in anger, but no one paid attention.
Dr. Huang handed over a blood-stained note:
“Found this in the box it came in.”
The note read, in messy handwriting:
“Come catch us if you can!”
After reading it, Chen Zhiye clenched his fists:
“Did you report it?”
“Yes. But you know the chances of catching them are low.”
Silence fell heavily over the room.
It continued until they returned to the rescue station with the owl and the steppe eagle.
Only then did Su Muzhi ask:
“It was abused and dumped at the rescue station door… right?”
Chen Zhiye took a crumpled cigarette pack from his pocket, lit one, and said nothing as smoke drifted into the night.
She didn’t press further.
Then she heard a faint, almost extinguished voice she had never heard before:
“Help… me…”
She turned sharply toward the enclosure.
A dark shape on the ground began to move slightly.
The steppe eagle had awakened.
“Let me out! Let me out!”
Its voice suddenly turned sharp, almost screaming.
It struggled violently despite its injuries, flapping weakly.
Chen Zhiye cursed under his breath, crushed his barely-smoked cigarette, and rushed in.
“Use a rope and tie its wings! Double knot!”
The weakened eagle was no match and was quickly restrained.
Its cries intensified, piercing:
“You’re bad people! Let me go!”
After restraining it, Chen Zhiye sighed:
“Worse than I thought. Its eyes are likely completely necrotic—it can’t see anything. Suddenly being in an unfamiliar environment triggered severe stress.”
“Was it also man-made?” Su Muzhi asked.
“About 80% likely. The other 20% might be injury from another bird. Once it stabilizes, Old Huang will take it for a full examination.”
The cigarette had burned to the end. He dropped it and said:
“It’s late. I still have things tomorrow. Go rest.”
Su Muzhi kept looking back as she left.
The eagle’s screams seemed to be carved into her mind, impossible to erase.